The Prince of Deatater
by Zivandre
Summary: "Draco, we're-" she started before she was interrupted with a harsh stutter. "Okay, I'm giving you a choice. You can stay here with us and help defend our land and what is right, or, we will let you go so you can head back to your family." Medieval AU.


_**This was written for QLFC: Training Camp. Round Three- write about conquering a land/nation.**_

 _ **I'm Chaser One for the Banchory Bangers.**_

 _ **Optional prompts were: Family, Hardened, and Indisputable.**_

 _ **[WC:1315]**_

~oOoOoOo~

Draco Malfoy bent over beside his horse, expelling the contents of his stomach. He did not want to deal with death and murder this early in life; he was only 16 years old, set to be learning the ways of a King and propriety. In some eyes, he was still yet a child.

He hated the ruler that his father had bowed into the country; he was nothing more than a deformed pompous git who deemed himself 'Lord Voldemort.' At least…that's what he had thought when he saw his father trailing after the man, begging for mercy and a high place at his side.

He hated how he had to be a murderer to survive. Because, even if his parents loved him - he was still a means to an end. A ladder to stand on. A chained bricklayer to what will be a dark kingdom.

Draco wiped the spittle from his chin, as he looked for his water canteen on the side of his horses' saddle. He thought how pathetic his father was as he opened the leathered canister. Draco guzzled at the fresh water that would wash away the bile on his throat.

Draco pulled himself back up on the horse, and set off at a steady trot towards the castle; towards his now dreaded home. To his now dreaded family.

~oOoOoOo~

As Draco headed towards his rooms to wash the bloody day away he thought about his life. His father had tried persuading him to stay with his army in their tents, but Draco had refused. Why should he degrade himself to sleep in a tent like some common peasant or beggar? Not while he could make the forty minute ride on horseback back to his silk sheeted, feather down bed.

He could never resist the womanly temptation of his maid turned mistress either. He grew tempted just thinking about her moonlit skin, or her wildly curly brown hair.

She had humbly advised him to politely refuse his father on heading his new mission. Draco didn't want to explain how impossible that would be - but he did.

He had spilled everything out to her. How his father's Lord wanted him to conquer the neighboring nations. How if the nation didn't abide to the Lord's rule, they would be vanquished and a new hierarchy would be in place.

Draco had reached his rooms, and his womanly goddess was waiting to right his pain. He relaxed under her touch as she washed his days monstrosities away.

When she was done, they fell once again into his large bed in a lovers embrace.

~oOoOoO~

When Draco awoke the next day, he couldn't find his mistress. He was due at camp in under an hours time, and still had not set off. But, he could not leave without wishing his unlucky maiden a proper farewell. Draco feared his father's retribution on being late, but at this point, he was weary of caring.

"I can't in fair conscious let you head into battle to slaughter innocent families again today Draco," his mistress exclaimed as she entered his private chamber.

"It is not for you to decide a king's rule, Hermione!" Draco sneered.

"Aye, but it is I who decides who can reside in my knickers, Malfoy! I do not care if you must eliminate me as well, I will not stand by and let you ruin your soul for your demon of a father!"

"That is treason! Do not make me decide, my sweet angel. For I fear that I will be weak in my decision!" said Draco with love and disdain in his voice.

"I may never be your queen, Draco, but I had hoped that you had still let me enter your heart. May God have mercy on your soul, for when you return I shall not be here and who else will keep you from joining this mutiny fully?"

Draco didn't answer as she left his rooms. He set off for the days work with nothing but heartbreak icing his soul and a hardened glance keeping him feared.

~oOoOoOo~

Draco wandered on the outskirts of the fresh battle - watching his armies form and the enemies backlash. He was so enamored with the vile imagery that he didn't notice a stranger creeping behind him.

However, he did feel as a roughened burlap sack covered his head and as a prickly rope entwined his hands.

He couldn't find it in him to fight back against his assailant. He let his body go limp as his body was drug through the underbrush.

The small journey wasn't long until he found himself being thrown in a hard-backed chair. He could he a small murmur close by to where he was now tied down. He could faintly hear a soft womans voice, along with at least two men.

Draco hated that he couldn't see, and he internally feared on what would happen to him. He didn't have to wait long, however, before he heard the soft rustle of a tent flap and heavy footsteps on the earth.

"What is your father's business, invading on our land? We will not bow down to him, as we have already expressed!"

"That is no business of yours! Now, unhand me at once and I'll let you live!" spat Draco.

Draco felt small and nimble hands grasp around the ties of the sack over his head. He let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting before he looked into the eyes of Hermione.

"Draco, we're-" she started before she was interrupted with a harsh stutter. "Okay, I'm giving you a choice. You can stay here with us and help defend our land and what is right, or, we will let you go so you can head back to your family."

Draco didn't answer as he gazed into her large chocolate orbs. Almost the same color that his mother used to sneak him when he was a young child. No matter what choice he made today - he would be letting down an important woman in his life.

It was up to him to choose between his mother and Hermione.

He did love his mother, that much he was certain of, but would he ever be happy with the wife they chose? Would he be happy living as a mouthpiece for Lord Voldemort? To never have control over his own kingdom? His own life?

But if he stayed with Hermione, they could have a life together. No, it wouldn't be easy with his father still out there. They would have no money, and would both have to work for a living. But would it be worth it?

Looking at Hermione with a new feeling in his heart, he saw he belly rounded with _his_ child. He saw another youngling running around her with his blonde hair and her curls. He saw flour all over them and in the air as they made biscuits. He saw happiness.

He should have known his answer would be indisputable.

"I'll stay with you, my queen," he replied.

He watched as her face lit up with joy, before she turned around and told the other men in the room, "I told you so."

~oOoOoOo~

In the end, the battle against his father and Voldemort was brutal. Many lives were lost, buildings destroyed, and hope yet to be found. But they conquered them. Hermione's brother, the prince of Pheorder, slayed Voldemort in a battle to the death. Draco watched as Ron brought down his father.

He thought he would feel something at his fathers death - but he only felt a weight lift off of him that he did not know he was carrying.

His mother had survived, thankfully. And Draco was able to take his rightful place as king over Deatater - with Hermione at his side.

He may not have conquered new nations for his father, but, he did conquer his own.

~oOoOoOo~

 _ **AAN: Pheorder is combined from Order of the Phoenix. Deatater is a combined word from Death Eater. This is obviously AU.**_


End file.
